Keeping pace with Strider turned out to be a lot harder than
Willow had thought, though it would be a cold day in hell before she
admitted that. The road was rough, the pace was fast, and she was a
little miffed to find that she lagged behind everyone else. She
would never fall too far behind, but she continuously struggled to
keep the others in her sights. The forested areas were the worse.
The ground was uneven and the trees were often so close together that
she would have trouble following her companions if she fell too far
back.
"All right there, Willow?"
The witch looked up and saw Merry waiting patiently for her
at the top of the latest hill Strider had led them over. She flashed
the hobbit a tired smile and nodded in response to his question.
Merry had been keeping an eye on her during this journey. He drifted
behind the others so he could keep her in sight.
Sometimes he just stopped and waited for her to catch up. If
the others noticed this at all, they said nothing. Frodo barely
spoke to anyone and Sam preferred to give her suspicious glares every
now and then. Pippin sometimes waited with his cousin, but overall
he wanted to stay close to Strider in case they had another run in
with the Nine.
"I'm fine," Willow replied as she finally reached the top of
the cliff. She stopped for a moment and looked to the treetops. The
sun shone down on them and appeared to be almost directly overhead,
which meant they would be stopping for lunch soon. Hopefully their
break would be a little longer than the last, but it was unlikely.
Strider wanted to keep moving, no matter how much his companions
wanted to stop for rest. Willow wasn't sure she could keep this pace
up for much longer.
But she kept going. She didn't have any other option.
Strider had told her that if she couldn't keep up, he would leave
her, and she didn't doubt that he would. He moved like a man with a
mission, hardly ever stopping unless it was for meals or the odd
breaks for sleep. His movements were graceful and he never missed a
step, like Willow did more often than not. He kept an eye on their
surroundings at all times, and his sword well within reach should the
worst happen. He might not have been the most congenial person she
ever met, but she felt a lot safer with him around.
However, she wouldn't be totally happy until this journey was
over. Willow wasn't used to sleeping on the ground and the few times
she did fall asleep, her dreams were so chaotic that she woke up
feeling worse than before. Strider and the Hobbits had no such
problems, though Pippin often lamented the fact that Strider only
allowed them to break for meals three times a day. Apparently,
Hobbits had about six or seven meals a day.
They walked for days and days, and the trip really wore
Willow down. She had blisters on her feet, her back hurt, and she
was really starting to smell. Willow was well aware that there were
more important things at hand than her physical appearance, but that
didn't stop her from feeling very icky. She was so not made for the
outdoorsy stuff.
The Hobbits also suffered during their travels, but not as
much as Willow did. As a whole, the continuous walking didn't seem
to bother them much. Sure they would all be tired at the end of the
day, but they were never quite in the same bad shape as Willow. When
the terrain was tough, they would huff and puff their way through it,
but after a night's sleep, they were refreshed and ready to go
again. The one thing that did seem to wear on them was the short
time Strider alloted for food. Other than Pippin, the Hobbits didn't
have a problem with only stopping for food three times a day. But
they weren't able to eat as much as they would have wanted in the
time Strider gave them.
Strider himself was less than sociable and he hardly ever
spoke unless it was absolutely necessary. Actually, he didn't do
much other than lead them along the road and bark the occasional
order. He frowned all the time, something that tended to remind
Willow of Angel, and didn't seem to be up for sharing anything about
himself, either. His secretiveness was more than a bit suspicious,
but Frodo seemed confident that Strider was on their side. Willow
was not as sure, but with those crazy Nazg�l on their tail, having
Strider around seemed like a good idea.
However, that didn't mean anyone trusted Strider. Sam kept a
very close eye on the man, but then again, Sam kept a close eye on
her, as well. The gardener was wary of both humans and always tried
to remain at Frodo's side, should something happen.
Sam was open about his suspicions, especially on the third
day of travel when he pulled Frodo near for a conference. Willow
scrambled to keep up with Pippin and Merry when she heard Sam speak
to his friend.
"Are you sure we can trust him, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked with a
nod of his head in Strider's direction, his voice low.
Frodo shrugged. "We have to."
"But where is he leading us?" Sam persisted.
"To Rivendell, Sam," came Strider's reply. Sam was
appropriately shocked that Strider had heard anything, especially
since the man was quite a bit ahead of them.
"Rivendell, did ya hear that?" Pippin asked excitedly, his
eyes bright as he grinned at his companions. "We're going to see the
Elves."
*****
Their journey continued, and Willow found herself wondering
if she could, in fact, keep up with this pace much longer. The road
wasn't getting any easier and Strider didn't show any signs of
slowing down. Actually, the man hardly seemed affected at all by the
strain of travel, something that made Willow even more irritated with
him than before.
There were only two things that kept her going. One was the
desire to get home: she couldn't be one hundred percent sure that
Gandalf would be able to help her, but that was all she had right
now, and even that tiny shred of hope was better than nothing. The
second was the Nazg�l. She had no desire to be left behind with
those things out there.
"Look," Strider commanded, stopping suddenly. He pointed to
the top of a nearby cliff, upon which was a set of ruins. "The guard
tower of Amon Sul. We will rest here tonight."
"Here" turned out to be a crevice in the cliff below the
watchtower. Strider led them up the hill carefully, his eyes
watchful for any sign of danger. He was still worried about the
Nazg�l, especially since they hadn't heard or seen any sign of them
since they left Bree. Willow was inclined to agree with his
concern. If they couldn't see the bad guys, that didn't necessarily
mean they weren't there. But it probably meant just that they were
planning something of the ambush nature.
Strider took the reins of the pony as the others climbed
up, and presumably took Bill somewhere safe to graze. The Hobbits
and Willow scrambled into the crevice, Pippin and Sam immediately
getting to work with opening their bags in search of food. Willow
sat down and breathed a sigh of relief as she stretched her tired
legs out in front of her.
Strider rejoined them shortly, his eyes scanning the land
below them as the others set up camp. He signalled for their
attention and threw down a bundle, then untied it to reveal five
sheathed swords. He handed them out one by one. "Keep them close,"
he instructed. "I'm going to take a look around."
And then he was gone. Willow shifted uneasily at the thought
of their supposed protector taking off so suddenly, but as the
Hobbits seemed okay with it, she decided to let it go. Pippin had
managed to find some bread and cheese, and was happily munching
away. Willow accepted the food they sent her way, chewing quietly as
she leaned against the rock wall. She peered out into the darkness
and shivered when she contemplated what was out there. It figured
that she would wind up in a world that was even stranger and more
dangerous than her own.
"Willow?"
She blinked and turned to face Pippin. "Yes?"
"I asked if you wanted anything else to eat?" he asked
slowly. Willow frowned and noticed the other Hobbits were watching
her closely as well. She was quick to plaster a smile on her face
and shook her head in response.
"I think I'm just going to get some sleep," she said softly.
Pippin gave her a look that was part curious and part concerned
before he nodded and drifted back to his companions. Willow sighed
and turned to the bag that Sam had packed for her back at Bree. She
pulled out the blanket that had been keeping her relatively warm for
the past few nights and chose a spot far away from the rock ledge.
The Hobbits continued to talk in low tones among themselves
as she settled down underneath her blanket. She laid still,
listening to their conversation drift from Strider's absence, to the
Shire, and then back to Strider. The minutes passed and soon her
eyelids started to droop. The last thing she remembered before
falling asleep was Sam's mutter about needing rope.
*****
Sleep wasn't getting any easier.
Every time she closed her eyes, her subconscious would throw
her into a chaotic mess of dreams that she couldn't understand, but
which frightened her deeply. There were times when she saw nothing
more than scenes of fire and destruction. Creatures, uglier than
some of the demons she had seen back at home, filled her mind's eye.
She could see them hard at work, toiling away in caverns full of
fire, and heard a steady stream of bangs and clanks. She realized
she had no idea what they were working, but knew that it could be
nothing good.
Then all of that hellish imagery would vanish, and Willow
found herself looking at
another forest. It was dark and isolated, but she could hear
something that sounded like whispers. The noise continued to build,
and then stopped abruptly. The forest was ripped away, and Willow
saw nothing but a pair of blue eyes looking back at her. It seemed
like forever that those eyes studied her, and then the whispers
started again. She watched in horror as the blue eyes faded away,
replaced with a single eye, awash in flame. The whispers developed
into screams and Willow jerked away.
The action caused her to roll away from her pillow. The
witch opened her eyes and drew in a few shaky breaths as her mind
tried to process what had just happened. It was just a dream,
another very weird dream, she assured herself shakily. They were
coming with greater and greater frequency, and the implications of
that made her stomach churn with uneasiness. Willow shook her head
to clear her head of any lingering images, coughing a little when she
inhaled some smoke fumes.
Wait a minute. Smoke? Willow frowned and turned her head to
the side just in time to see Frodo jump out from under his blankets
and race over to the other Hobbits. They were cooking something and
appeared to be very proud of themselves until Frodo started shouting
at them.
"Put it out, you fools!" he cried as he stamped the fire out
with his feet. The other Hobbits made unhappy sounds at his actions
while Willow scrambled out from under her own blanket. There was no
sign of Strider anywhere. Where was that man?
A chilling shriek shattered the silence of the night. Willow
flinched and felt her heart go up her throat when she placed the
sound: Nazg�l. Frodo rushed over to the rock ledge and dared a
glance over the side. Whatever he saw made him go pale, and Willow
immediately began to search for the weapons Strider had left them
with.
"Move!" Frodo ordered them, pushing back from the edge and
grabbing one of the weapons. "They're coming!"
The others found their swords quickly and Frodo began to herd
them up towards the ruins of the watchtower. Willow followed his
lead and stumbled into the center of the ruins. The Hobbits crowded
around her, all of them breathing heavily in extertion and fear as
they watched the surrounding area for any sign of danger.
They came swiftly and silently, looking exactly how she
always imagined the Grim Reaper would look, if he had been real.
There were five of them, all with swords drawn as they marched
steadily towards their trembling prey.
Sam was the first to react. He drew his sword and gave some
sort of battle cry. The little guy was brave, she had to admit
that. She just wasn't so sure that his actions were all that smart.
But with five Nazg�l bearing down on them very fast, maybe Sam had
the right idea.
Sam charged forward, and was almost immediately being tossed
aside by one of the Nazg�l. Pippin and Merry jumped forward next and
by that time the Nine Servants were on top of them.
Willow gave a startled yelp when one of the creatures reached
out to her, and she drew her own sword to hack at it wildly. Her
weapon was wrenched out of her hands all too quickly and Willow
desperately lashed out with frenzied kicks and punches. Her actions
had no effect on the Nazg�l other than to annoy it, and it grasped
Willow by the collar of her shirt to lift her up into the air. In a
second she was flying over its shoulders, and falling to the ground
in a painful heap.
She struggled to get back to her feet, looking up just in
time to see one of the Nazg�l slash a dagger into thin air. When she
heard Frodo's scream, it was a shock to the system: blood seemed to
gush out of the very air around the rider's weapon, and Willow
realized that Frodo had tried to pull his vanishing act again.
She tried to muster up enough energy for another rush, when
Strider roared onto the scene. He was armed with a sword and torch,
and he knew well how to use both. Willow watched in awe as he fought
off the black creatures, setting a few of them on fire while he was
at it. The Nazg�l began to screech those horrific shrieks of theirs
and fled into the black night.
It was Sam's cries that broke Willow out of her stupor. She
turned to find him cradling a wounded Frodo in his arms. The witch
gingerly got to her feet carefully and limped her way over to the
Hobbits. Her right knee hurt and she was pretty sure that she had
quite a few scratches covering her body, but that was nothing
compared to the damage inflicted upon Frodo.
The Hobbit gasped for breath as a few moans of pain escaped
his lips. She immediately thought to try and stop the bleeding, but
Strider stopped her hand. He had picked up the blade that injured
Frodo and Willow watched it crumbled into dust right before her eyes.
"What does that mean?" she asked breathlessly.
"It's poison," was all that he said in reply. Willow looked
on as Strider threw the hilt of the ruined weapon away and gathered
Frodo up into his arms. The ranger started to make his way back down
to the ground. "We need to get him to Rivendell. Quickly."
Willow and the other Hobbits rushed to follow him, hastily
throwing all their supplies together as they struggled to keep up
with the man. Strider had few words for any of them and Willow was
soon scrambling to stay with the others as they took to the road once
more. Their pace was even faster than before, the stops less and
less frequent, and the tension even worse. Her right leg still hurt
and slowed her down a bit, but she managed to stay with the others.
However, Frodo's condition continued to decline as the days
went by, even though Strider tended his wound every night. Whatever
this poison was, Willow had never seen anything like it before. It
didn't spread as fast as she knew some poisons did, but that only
meant that Frodo was in excruciating pain as the poison took its time
working its way through his system. The Hobbit had gone deathly
pale, and sometime during the second day of travel his lips began to
turn blue.
"God, what is this stuff?" she asked fearfully as they
stopped on the third night. Strider just gave her a grim look in
reply before gently laying Frodo on the ground. Willow scooted close
to the Hobbit so she could wipe some of the sweat off of his
forehead. Frodo gave no indication that he knew she was there. He
drifted in and out of consciousness, and was unable to utter a
coherent sound.
"Sam!" Strider called for the other Hobbit. "Do you know
what athelas is? It is sometimes called King's Foil."
"Aye," Sam nodded, eager to do anything to help his
friend. "It's a plant. What of it?"
"Look around," Strider instructed him. "Gather some, if you
can. It will help slow the spread of the poison."
Sam gave a quick nod and dashed off into the bushes. "You
three," Strider turned to them. "Stay here and watch him. See if
you can get him to take in some water. If you see anything
suspicious, call for me."
Willow nodded and watched as the ranger disappeared in the
direction opposite of Sam. Pippin and Merry fussed over Frodo and
she turned back to help them, lifting Frodo just a bit as Merry tried
to get him to drink some water. The Hobbit responded a bit, but soon
began to cough it back up.
"He's in so much pain," Pippin murmured, his voice clearly
distraught.
Willow had no response for that. She merely eased Frodo back
down to the ground and began arranging the blankets around him as the
two Hobbits fell silent. Merry went to the edge of their makeshift
camp to watch out for any sign of Sam while Pippin sat by Willow as
she watched Frodo sleep fitfully. It seemed like their other two
companions had been gone forever when Strider returned, and with a
stranger and another horse no less.
The stranger turned out to be the most beautiful woman she'd
ever seen. Willow watched, mesmerized, as the raven-haired woman
rushed to Frodo's side. She was dressed in grey, and her pristine
state contrasted sharply with the general filthiness of Willow and
her companions. Her skin was pale, and it seemed to glow faintly.
Willow blinked once or twice, and yet the glow remained.
"She's an Elf," Pippin whispered.
Willow felt her jaw drop at this revelation. The Elf paused
to look over them, her gaze resting on Willow for a second longer
than the others. Willow was startled at the sight of her blue eyes,
instantly remembering the eyes she had seen in her dream.
"He is weak," the Elf spoke, her voice very soft. "He needs
Elvish medicine. I must get him to my father."
And then Strider and the Elf started speaking quietly in a
language Willow had never heard before in her life. The witch turned
to the Hobbits, only to find them as confused as she was. Strider
took no notice of their confusion and began to gather Frodo in his
arms again. Willow jumped to her feet, watching as Strider placed
Frodo on the Elf's white horse. Strider and the Elf appeared to be
having a hushed argument, one that the Elf must have won because
Strider stopped talking abruptly. He was silent for a moment and
then spoke again in that strange tongue. The Elf smiled sweetly at
him and then hoisted herself up behind Frodo. With a swift kick to
the horse's sides, the Elf rode off into the night with Frodo.
"Wait!" Sam shouted in alarm. "Where is she taking him?"
"To Rivendell," Strider replied quietly. "She will get him
there faster than we can."
"But-"
"Not now, Sam," Strider cut him off swiftly. "We must move,
as well. The Nine are close on our trail. We must reach the safety
of Rivendell."
"How far is it now?" Willow asked tiredly.
"Two days' travel," Strider replied. "If we hurry."
Merry had already begun to pack up their belongings and she
joined him. They dismantled their camp quietly, most of them
glancing nervously into the darkness surrounding them. Willow
grabbed both her bag and Frodo's and went to stand by the horses to
wait for the others. The Hobbits joined her soon enough, and Strider
put out the fire before leading the others back into the forest once
more.
*****